I stood up too quickly and the entire room tilted back and forth in the water. “Whoa,” I said to no one. When the room steadied, I grabbed a pair of boxers, tattered jeans, and a black T-shirt, heading toward the main houseboat to grab a quick shower. I opened my door and realized it was still pitch black, not even a sliver of dawn hinted on the horizon.
When I walked in, Father was sitting at the small kitchen table, a paper in hand, already showered and dressed but in regular clothing with a ball cap on his head.
“Early, no?” I asked.
“It’s four a.m.,” he explained, sipping from a coffee cup.
My eyes widened. “Four!” I exclaimed, unable to stop myself.
He laughed. “Yes, boyo, sin does not wait for the sun to rise,” he explained, sobering me.
“I see. I’ll just shower then.”
He gestured toward the bathroom door and I let myself in. Barely able to close the door behind me, I absorbed the size of it. I took stock of a sink and nothing else. Where the hell is the shower and toilet? Upon closer inspection, I noticed a ceramic-like bowl lodged in the floor.
“What in the world is that?” I said out loud, making Father laugh outside the door.
“Figure it out, lad!” I heard from the other side of the door.
This was the toilet then. In the airports, they’d had American-style bathrooms and I didn’t even think about it. I looked around the room and saw a nozzle attached to the ceiling in the corner of the very small room. You’ve got to be kidding me. The entire bath was the shower, toilet, sink.
I bit the bullet and started to undress, pinching the door open to throw all my clothing on the sofa right outside.
“Here goes nothin’.”
I started the shower and yelped, inciting yet another riotous Irish laugh on the other side of the door. The water was freezing. I looked at the nozzle and noticed there wasn’t a hot option. Meaning, I was in hell. A perpetual Groundhog Day-esque experience. Cold showers every day? Fine. For Fin.
I dressed as quickly as I could without getting my jeans wet from the tile below then sat on the sofa in the main room to put on my socks and lace up my boots.
“That was quick, lad, for one with such long, flowin’ hair.”
I grinned at the ground, tying one boot on. “Is that a dig, old man?” He laughed in answer. “I’ll have you know my mom’s Native American, sir. I’m a halfling of the Echo River Tribe,” I teased.
“And ye da?”
“White as a sheet,” I deadpanned.
“That explains it,” he said with a smile, leaving it at that, then standing. “Are ye ready?” he asked me.
“Men don’t ask other men if they’re ready unless there’s something to be ready for.”
Father nodded slowly in agreement. “Then ready yeself, lad.”
He lead me out of the houseboat, over the dock, and down the beach toward the main house. Just as we’d crested the canopied trail, I could see Finley’s silhouette in the distance. I had to fight the urge to run to her like a little boy. My hands fisted and opened many times, resisting the impulse. When she turned toward us, though, I couldn’t help myself and started walking much faster than Father to meet her side. Check yourself, gosh dammit! I stopped briefly, my eyes closed tightly to gain control of myself, before I fell back to meet Father’s stride.
Finley
Ethan walked toward me eagerly when he recognized me, stopped, then fell back with Father, setting me on edge for reasons I didn’t know. My stomach rose and fell in quick succession at the sight of him. Nerves, no doubt, though something else seemed to nag at me.
“Ethan,” I breathed. Although I had to have known he couldn’t hear me, his name escaped my lips without volition.
Lean and muscular, Ethan sauntered toward me, his head down, hands shoved in his front pockets, the muscles in his arms highlighted by the action. His hair fell side to side with every stride, and my belly began to burn with something I’d never felt before, making me even more nervous than I already was. I silently begged him to pick his gaze up and share it with me but he seemed entranced by his own steps.
Finally, he looked up and I caught his eye. The look on his face confused me.
“Hey,” I said breathlessly, my heart beat erratically. What is wrong with you?
He jerked his chin up in greeting the way all guys do, keeping his hands in his pockets. I reached out for his forearm but at the last second reined my hand back in. Why are you acting so freaking weird, Finley? I had no answer for myself.
“Hello, lass,” Father said in greeting, seemingly oblivious to my awkwardness.
“Father,” I addressed him with a smile, watching Ethan from the corner of my eye.
He studied the ground, toeing the shell gravel back and forth, distracted.
All three of us stood in a circle for a moment while Father checked his pockets for his cell phone.
“It’s right here,” I told him, handing it over. “You charged it in the kitchen last night, remember?”
“Ach! Daft me! Thank ya, girl.” He took a deep breath and looked on both of us before turning to Ethan. “Ethan, ye’ll observe us today. When I feel yer ready, lad, I might use ye ta fish one out, but ’til then ye watch us. Ye on it, son?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding his head in earnest, making me proud to be his friend.
“Roight,” Father said, smiling, “we’re headin’ for Hanoi today, a bit out o’ Finley’s comfort zone,” he began. I opened my mouth to object but he only talked over me. “Now, Finley, lass, ye’ll do just fine. An’s heard o’ bit o’ rumblings an’ we’re only gon’ to speak wit’ folks.”